


Futile Devices

by wardenwolfgang



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akira has terrible anxiety, Author Is Sleep Deprived, M/M, Pre-Relationship, The cat is nowhere to be found LOL sorry Morgana, Yusuke is pining, it's just awkward having you here when Akira's having a heartfelt with someone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 07:33:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11270949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wardenwolfgang/pseuds/wardenwolfgang
Summary: Yusuke loved him.He truly did. He loved every inch of his body and his being. He felt a passion for every single contradiction, every peculiarity, every single detail in his fabric.





	Futile Devices

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from a Sufjan Stevens song, which also inspired my sad gay ass to write this fic.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RaKXCrogzfk

Yusuke was always caught up in the littlest things.

 

Leblanc didn’t provide for much legroom, but it still had the space to keep a certain resident upstairs and away from pedestrian customers. Like the storefront down below, the attic carried the same familiar scent of house blend along with the dull lighting that accentuated the dark wood paneling, seeming to age away along with its material contents. Dust was no stranger to its tenant’s space, as a thick layer of it generously coated each visible surface of each cardboard box and storage container.

 

But it still felt like home. It has always felt like home.

 

And for now, it was home to Akira, who now sat on the edge of his mattress, carefully enveloped in his own silent thoughts: unspoken, yet understood. It’s a silence that all of the Phantom Thieves have come to respect, and somewhat admire in certain cases. His words were few, but often sharp and laced with bitter sarcasm: yielding to lively results, but ultimately an unfortunate result as an immediate defensive response hardened by his disturbed past. He was quick to respond to anything with a quip and a snark, if at all.

 

But he was genuine.

 

The boy lived a life beyond the confines of school and home. To his closest associates, he was an individual beyond his misdemeanor. He was a human of flesh and bone, and it seemed that the public failed to recognize such an essential aspect of his very being. He was a kindness, helping the gamut running from school children to politicians. In a city that contained multitudes, he found graciousness.

 

Yusuke was one of these entities. Akira has shown a tolerance to this artisan that no other being has in the brief history of mankind. Perhaps it was a tolerance strong enough to become a passion: they’ve enjoyed every single second spent in each others’ presence and would go great lengths to spend a little more. For once in Yusuke’s life, there is a figure that unconditionally supported each endeavor and followed his development as a creator with each step of the way.

 

And Yusuke cared for him. He cared so much.

 

An artist’s eye has come to recognize each subtle nervous tic as it came: fingers wrapped within twisty curls of hair, tiny kicks along the pavement as he stood, tremors that came to his hands along with a series rapid breaths. Whether it was Joker or Akira behind the mask, he always seemed to be in a constant state of motion. Yusuke was drawn to this, more so out of concern than fascination in this particular case.

 

Yet again, he finds himself on the couch across from Akira’s mattress after a long session of slicing and pulverizing the demons that lied within the hearts of the public, now wrapped in blankets that draped over his knees and legs. He barely slept at Leblanc out of courtesy for its owner (who truly didn’t seem to mind so much anyways), but he became quite familiar with the attic. By incredible happenstance, Yusuke felt even more secure surrounded by old wood and filth rather than remaining within the distractions of his school dormitory, and he felt comfortable in his leader’s presence even more so that he could express.

 

Tonight felt heavier.

 

The Akira he saw was a rare sight to many. Beyond the reflective surfaces of his thick frames, his eyes remained fixed on the floor, avoiding contact in conversation. His body rocked slowly in a small arc, back and forth while he rubbed the joints of his fingers. A sharp exhale prompted a brief exchange.

 

“Akira, is there something bothering you?” Yusuke questioned.

 

“No, it’s nothing,” Akira answered, gaze set steadily on the woodwork. “Or… it’s nothing I want to talk about right now.”

 

The artisan’s heart dropped like a lead weight through his gut. It would have to take some time for the both of them to truly express what they feel.

 

“If you ever desire to talk about anything, I’ll always be here,” said Yusuke, after a prolonged period of reflective silence between the two.

 

 

Yusuke loved him.

 

He truly did. He loved every inch of his body and his being. He felt a passion for every single contradiction, every peculiarity, every single detail in his fabric.

 

But such ideas are so difficult to convey with words.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm gonna wake up in a few hours and I'll probably regret posting this drabble HAHA  
> Nonetheless, I hope at least a few of you out there enjoy it!
> 
> I'm very new to writing fanfiction, thank you for you patience  
> I'll return to writing We Like It Here very soon


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